


White Noise

by Stoll_mydam_heart



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Imagine after Baltimore but different, M/M, Neil is in a coma of sorts, POV Andrew Minyard, Protective Andrew Minyard, andrew is not okay, neither is Neil actually but he isn’t awake to say he’s fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29717559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stoll_mydam_heart/pseuds/Stoll_mydam_heart
Summary: It wasn’t supposed to happen. Definitely not like this.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 14
Kudos: 163





	White Noise

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not great with trigger warnings but there’s brief mentions of implied suic*dal thoughts and violence please let me know if there’s anything else I should add  
> ~  
> Me: i just want my babies to be happy they’ve been through so much leave them alone🥺  
> Also me:

It wasn’t supposed to happen. Definitely not like this.

He was under Andrew’s protection, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

But it had.

Neil was gone.

A gray haze clouded his mind, swimming with thoughts that wouldn’t leave him alone. Neil, the fucking idiot had been captured and was now lying in a hospital, possibly dead for all he knew. Memories flashed in small sequences, barely feeling the press of his fingers against Kevin’s throat, rough and demanding. Body squirming against his hold, slamming him against the wall, and barking out threats for information. Fucking Kevin. He knew, of course he knew and Neil could be dead.

His focus was zeroed on the road ahead, only the occasional tug of a silver cuff reminding him where he was. The Foxes had figured out Neil’s location, though it hadn’t exactly been hard. News vans were parked outside with reporters all trying to storm the building in search of the Butcher of Baltimore's son.

Andrew’s fingers itched to slip the knives from his armbands and cut down every goddamned reporter there. It was none of their fucking business but here they were, shoving their noses in places they didn’t belong. Fuck them, fuck every reporter there for not caring if Neil was actually okay, not caring about anything but getting the first details on the story. 

It was silent as they clambered out of the car, anxiety palpable in the air. If anyone spoke he couldn't hear it anyway. All he knew was that there was a door and a few flights of stairs between himself and Neil, and he couldn’t make himself wait any longer.

Andrew’s legs carried him forward, dragging Wymack along with the cuff. It was there to make sure he did nothing rash but anger rimmed his vision red the closer he got to the doors. A few nurses were trying to shoo reporters away and FBI agents were standing, stoic in identifying jackets at the front. 

_ “From our sources, it is said that the Butcher of Baltimore’s son-” _

_ “The infamous Butcher of Baltimore’s son-” _

_ “...housed in this hospital which is currently under heavy-” _

_ “...FBI agents standing guard outside-” _

_ “...not permitting any visitation-” _

_ “...no further details have been given-” _

_ “The Butcher of Baltimore was recently killed in-” _

_ “...speculation that the son, whose name is still undisclosed at the moment, is in critical condition-” _

Andrew needed a cigarette and a grenade.

The group rushed in and he could still hear their voices, a lingering buzz outside and sharp inside as some tried to obtain visitation or any details on his current condition. The receptionist looked pissed at the reporters.

“I already said no details will be given about any patients in this hospital. If you don’t need care then get out and leave room for people that actually do.” The reporter at the desk looked upset but turned around, eyes catching on their group and flickering with recognition.

“Are you the Palmetto-” In a second, the knife had slid from his armband and was pressed against the reporter's throat. Their eyes went wide with shock and fear as everyone in the room tensed at the action. He could feel Wymack trying to tug him back but it wasn’t working.

“If you ask a single question I will slit your throat. Mind your own fucking business and get the fuck out of here.” A final tug pulled Andrew away but his murderous glare remained, tracking the reporter’s movements. They stumbled out on trembling limbs and shaky breaths.

“Hello, could you please give us the room number to Neil Josten?” Renee’s voice is sweet and smooth. Better she’s up there and not him. It would make things go faster.

The receptionist was rattled by the events, and people around were still unsure of what to do. The receptionist swallowed thickly before speaking. “He will be taking no visitors at the moment. I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do for you. Unless you’re family-”

Dan cut in. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard any of the reporters outside but he’s in the hospital because of his father. We’re all he has and we want to see him so cut the crap and give us a room number.” He didn’t really care for anyone much on the team but at the moment, he felt the slightest flicker of almost gratitude for Dan’s inability to deal with other people’s shit.

“I- I’m sorry I-”

“I completely understand, you’re just doing your job but maybe this could help? If you look up Palmetto State Foxes exy team you’ll find all of us, including Neil. We’re worried about him and just want to see him. If not, could you maybe bring a message then, tell him we’re here at least?”

The receptionist, he sees the name tag reads “Becky”, chews their lip. He can tell they believed them but were still debating whether to give out any information.

“I need something that proves you have direct relations to him.”

Andrew’s already miniscule patience was quickly waning.

“Here, we have his number and pictures together, if you need us to answer any questions we’d be happy to.” He was bouncing on the balls of his feet. In his mind, he was reviewing the floor plan of the hospital. Maybe Neil was in the ICU, he tried to figure out how long it might take to throw open every door before finding the auburn haired asshole that was making Andrew’s chest squeeze and world spin.

The process had gone quickly enough apparently as the second he came back into focus, the receptionist seemed somewhat satisfied with whatever information she’d been given.

“One final question, what’s his full name. Not his fake name, the one he was given at birth.” The foxes looked lost but the words were flying from Andrew's mouth before they’d even been processed.

“Abram. Nathaniel Abram Wesninski.” He saw most of the Foxes shoot surprised, even shocked looks but they glided off him. The receptionist nodded and clicked at the computer screen like they had all the time in the world. Like the only thing that Andrew’s apathy had somewhat broken towards wasn’t currently dying alone thinking he was no one. Thinking he was nothing because Andrew had let him.

“Room number,” Andrew barked out. The receptionist flinched.

“Right. Says here he’s being held in room 406 of the ICU but before you-” 

The words were lost to him as he sprinted down the hallways. People in the hallways were either almost run over, or jumped out of the way at the last second, papers flying out of hands and littering the floor along with angry curses aimed in their direction.

Andrew practically tore down the door, throwing off any hands that tried to stop him. His eyes immediately flicked over to the boy lying in the cot and everything froze

Static filled his ears as he took in his appearance.

He wasn’t awake, that much was clear but his face was pale, gaunt, and hollowed. Bandages were taped and plastered over almost every space that skin could be exposed and his chest barely rose despite the oxygen tube. He was still.

This wasn’t Neil.

From the second Andrew had met him, in sleep and in pain in happiness and anxiety, he was constantly shifting, itching to move, to get up, to do  _ something _ . He was a rabbit, he had to run. Now there was no real indication he was alive other than the slow rise of his chest. His soft curls were turned rusty in the light and something grabbed painfully at his chest. 

This wasn’t the Neil he knew. This was a shell of the boy who managed to worm his way through Andrew’s steel walls. This was the memory, the remains of who he was, silenced by trauma.

How dare he, how dare he fucking leave and let this happen. He knew that Andrew would have his back but he went. It was obvious Neil had known. The words had haunted his memory like a plague every waking moment and constantly in his dreams.

_ “Thank you, you were amazing.”  _ The little fucking martyr knew and had lied straight through his teeth. Lied not just to the Foxes, but to  _ Andrew _ . He had thought they were done with hiding, done with secrets. Apparently, this was the last, and evidently the most painful. If Neil didn't already look halfway to death Andrew would’ve killed him

Under the flickering fluorescent lights of the bare room, the scent of death lingered in the sterile air, and Andrew couldn’t breathe.

An overwhelming saturation of panic flooded his veins with the realization that he could be gone. Gone for good and all Andrew had ever done was call him, call their  _ this _ , nothing. 

Time stopped registering and everything was too loud, too much, all merging together into a single deafening roar, screaming, crying out like an alarm that wouldn’t leave him alone until suddenly, there was nothing.

Andrew’s world was built into an intolerable dissonance, jumbled and manic but now it had been plunged into a bitter silence, cold so deep it burned and he felt painfully alone. It was simultaneously too quiet and too empty but too disorderly, too much and too little. Much too little and nothing close to enough.

Panic made a resurgence and he fought back the vertigo that spun and twisted his vision, seeing a warped reality that couldn't be real because it just couldn't. Neither of them deserved this, neither deserve any of this but life wasn’t fair and Andrews’ fight had been ignited and extinguished more times than he could count and he wasn’t sure how much fuel he really had left.

“He’s out, Andrew.”

No shit.

He had been holding onto the metal bars of his bed with a white knuckled but it was wrenched away as he spun on his heel, the look in his eyes daring anyone else to say anything. None of them seems to have a death wish, even Wymmack uncuffed them knowing Andrew wasn’t going to do much else but stay. He was going to stay as long as he had because he had to talk to him, hear the junkie’s voice and know he was alive.

Neil wasn’t fine. He wasn’t going to be fine, not for a long long time or maybe ever, but he needed Neil to be alive so he had the chance to get that far. And even if not, Andrew would be there to help chase his monsters away, just like before, just like Neil helped Andrew with his own demons that threatened to drag him under.

He clenched and unclenched his fingers, trying to get his hands to still, to get some semblance of his usual control but it wasn’t not working and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking and Neil was dying and Andrew was not okay.

Andrew hated wanting things, he hated needing things because it made him weak. Neil made him believe he deserved good things, that it was okay to want, even sometimes to need things but it was well past time for reality to come crashing back in all it’s cruel and vicious glory. He knew it was coming, he’d been prepared but this wasn’t supposed to be the way it happened.

Andrew was undoubtedly self-destructive. Maybe one day he would figure Neil was sick of him and end things on his own, or Andrew would do something that would finally send Neil running like the rabbit he was. Neil wasn’t supposed to end up here, sickly pale, wrapped in bandages and unaware.

He heard sniffling in the background and something that sounded like a choked sob but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the boy in front of him. It was suffocating and Andrew needed to get out.

“I need a cigarette,” he murmured, almost in a daze as he almost ran out of the room. His hands fumbled for the pack in his pocket and the second the cool wind hit his face, the lighter flicked on and a thin wisp of smoke curled from the cherry as it ignited. He took a few long, slow, methodical drags, holding his breath to feel the sting in his lungs before blowing it back out. The longer he stood, he found he was no longer actually smoking it, just inhaling the second-hand as it wafted up, occasionally tapping away the ash.

Fucking Neil.

He threw it on the ground and stomped it out and came back inside, the scent of nicotine clinging to his clothing like a second skin. He walked back in, ignoring all the nurses and doctors that looked his way and found most of the foxes still there, tear stained faces and trembling lips. Andrew took a chair from the edge of the wall and dragged it next to Neil’s bed and took a seat. He wasn’t leaving until Neil woke up. He had to wake up, because if he didn’t Andrew wasn’t sure what he was going to do. 

Rage still filled every inch of his body and Andrew wanted to make every single person involved suffer, carving lines into their bodies like they’d done to Neil until they were unrecognizable. He wouldn’t show an ounce of sympathy or mercy, letting them bleed, drawing it out as long as possible until they were begging for their own death. 

He was going to stay until Neil pushed him away.

Andrew’s fingers found the pulse point on his wrist despite being able to hear the monotonous electronic beep, needing to know for himself. All of this was new for the Foxes, no one had known there’d been anything going on and it was all news but no one said anything. 

Andrew took his hand and laced his fingers with Neil’s own. Neil always said it was always yes with him. Andrew hated it, hated taking chances, hated not being able to ask, hated Neil and his unwavering absolute trust in Andrew but he desperately needed something to ground him and Neil’s touch was the only true welcome one.

He squeezed lightly, waiting for one back but didn't feel one. His face is a blank mask but the emotion raging in his eyes is pure and unrestrained.

“Come back to me, Neil.” His words are whispered and he hears a muffled curse behind him and shuffled footsteps.

There's a hand that comes to his shoulder and he flinches away, fighting to keep himself from sliding the knife from his bands.

The nurse quickly pulled their hand away and he hated the looks of sympathy written into her expression.

“Honey, you can’t just roam around, you need to leave him for a while while he recovers.”

“I’m staying.” His tone held finality. 

“You’re better off letting him stay,” Wymack said.

The nurse frowned. “I understand but I can’t allow it. It goes against policy.”

“Then allow it this time. If you kick us out we’ll come right back in and we know what room he’s in. There are a lot of reporters outside that would love to hear about what’s going on.” Andrew knows Wymack would never give up any information but he heard the edge to his words, the hanging threat. So did the nurse.

The nurse cast dirty looks on all of them, lingering on Andrew, who’s gaze had already shifted back to Neil, before walking out without another word.

As long as it would take.

..:..:..:..:..:..:..:..

Five days later, and Neil was supposedly doing better. He still wasn’t awake.

_ His vitals are stable but… _

_ The fractures seem to be healing properly, but… _

_ The cuts and burns are slowly getting better, but… _

_ His heart beat is growing stronger and he’s breathing properly, but… _

Andrew hated every second. Every reassurance followed by an  _ I’m so sorry _ ,  _ we don’t know why he won’t wake up. _

The sky was slowly breaking from night to day, budding rays of sun snatching dull orange and yellow reflections from cars passing on the street and dirty windows from adjacent buildings.

He turned his back and ended up in Neil’s room again, taking the seat he’d been at almost every waking moment of the day. He’d left only twice, Aaron and Nicky almost dragging him out to shower and eat before he came back. He promised he’d be there. He couldn’t keep the original promise to keep Neil safe, he had to at least keep this one.

No one was in the room this morning beside himself. The Foxes had each shown up at least once a day to check in. He could see the deflation every time they saw Neil still laying on the bed, lashes fanned against his bruised cheekbones, unmoving.

Andrew’s hands idly took Neil’s and fiddled with his fingers. He didn’t know what to feel anymore. 5 days maybe wasn’t too long but each second dragged on like an eternity and for all Andrew complained, he wished he could hear Neil ramble about exy again. 

“Neil, wake up. You know my voice, Abram, come on. It’s been too long, the Foxes miss you.” His head hung down, voice shattered. “I miss you.”

He hated it. But it was a truth, and Andrew had never been one to run from it. Unsurprisingly, there was no response. He gave Neil’s hand a squeeze not expecting much from it and rested his head on the side of Neil's bed.

He felt a squeeze back.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing AFTG, I hope it wasn’t too ooc let me know what you thought, comments and kudos always appreciated and have a lovely rest of your day/night!!


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